


Adventures in Ivy Town

by cfcureton



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, References to Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10718985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: Oliver and Felicity learn that there can be danger in the burbs, too.





	1. Chapter 1

Oliver closed his eyes and heaved a giant sigh, feeling the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax with the exhale. The sway of the hammock--at first a bit too much like the motion of a ship for his liking--was beginning to make him sleepy. Waves of skepticism must have come off of him when Felicity suggested he try out what she initially thought was a fishing net left behind in the rafters of the garage, a discovery she'd made while running fiber optic cable.

But after a morning that included wake up sex, a workout, 8 mile run, breakfast, and lawn mowing, the retired superhero was ready to take a break and relax. He was glad no one was around to witness his initial attempts to get into the damn thing, but now that he had the hang of it he was looking forward to a nap.

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Felicity, child of the desert and young woman of the city, was really beginning to dig their back yard. (Inward guffaw at her own pun.) Life in the burbs might not be as thrilling as kicking ass in the corporate world all day and then staying up late into the night to kick ass (metaphorically, anyway) with the sexiest vigilante ever, but Ivy Town did have one distinct advantage of its own: Manicured lawns. Theirs was lush and green and closed off from prying eyes by a high wooden privacy fence. As a result, fooling around on a blanket under the stars had become her new favorite nighttime activity.

At the back of the yard there was a gate that opened onto common green space featuring a small but lively creek and a stand of trees. Felicity had taken to sneaking out after her morning conference calls for a wander along the creek bed to let nature clear her head.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A blood curdling scream brought Oliver straight up out of the hammock. Or at least it would have, if he'd known to pick his feet up and plant them on the ground to either side of his perch as he sat up. Instead his momentum flipped him over and out onto the ground before he could react and brace his fall. Hammock: 1, Oliver Queen: 0.

Green Arrow reflexes kicked in at that point, because the scream definitely belonged to one Felicity Smoak. In an instant his mind was racing through the endless horrible possibilities as he scanned the yard. He heard her scream again, this time in a series of yelps and screeches and a particularly high pitched "FRACK!" It was coming from the far side of the gate: He took off at a dead run.

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Felicity's first encounter with wildlife on her little nature walks had been a chipmunk, which turned out to be an utterly delightful experience. The second, a turtle, was a bit more disconcerting, as it was initially only a head floating in the water, which is super creepy if you have no idea how much more of it might be underneath the surface. Turtles weren't in kangaroo territory yet, though she hadn't ruled it out.

But nothing could have prepared her for the large, loud, and very angry goose she disturbed when she wandered too close to its nesting mate. She backpedaled up the bank as it charged toward her, neck straight out and--oh-my-god-is-that-thing-HISSING?!--beating its wings.

That's when she screamed and turned to run, glancing over her shoulder to discover in horror that it had built up enough speed to lift itself off the ground until it was practically at eye level and catching up fast. She felt a rush of air and heard the snap of its beak as it blew past her head and she threw herself to her knees, yelping and swearing. As her gaze fell to the earth she spied a rather large stick in the grass.

The goose banked for a return attempt, so Felicity scooped the stick up into her hands and stood, feet planted as Sara had taught her and the weapon raised like a bat.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver launched himself through the gate in the back of their fence prepared for Deathstroke. What he found instead was his petite, blond, dynamo-of-a-girlfriend swinging a giant stick like she was in the World Series at a very angry goose performing a circus stunt fly-by of her face.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head as she swung with a yell that ended in a screech and the stick connected just behind one outstretched wing. The goose gave an OOF! and veered off course, landing with a squawk behind her and waddling a few feet further away before turning back to shake its wings and honk angrily at her. Felicity had the stick back up at her shoulder and was facing off with it, bouncing on her sneakered toes and muttering what he thought was "You want a piece of me?!"

Oliver pounded up to her, hands out defensively in case he surprised a swing out of her. The goose must have decided that the odds had shifted out of its favor, because it turned and waddled slowly away, neck craning backwards every couple of steps with low and threatening honks.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carla Jenson stepped out onto her patio and closed the sliding glass door behind her with a sigh of relief. Sacrificing both her phone and her iPad to her preschool twins in order to get ten minutes to herself was totally worth the subsequent sticky fingerprints and questionable selfies. She had just settled herself into the chaise lounge with a full glass of tea and shut her eyes when she heard voices drift up from the far side of her back fence.

  
"I had no idea it would be that BIG," a female voice said in a mix of awe and disbelief. Carla cracked open one eyelid.

  
"Well you handled it really well, considering it was your first time," came the chuckled reply in a husky tenor. Her head popped up off the chaise. Was that the new neighbor?! That man was sex on a stick. His habit of going for a run every morning when the kids were at the bus stop had a lot of moms up early and making an effort to be dressed in something more flattering than pjs. Her eyes darted left and right as she waited to hear more.

  
"There is NO WAY I'm going to try to tackle that again on my own," the female voice continued, and Carla clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

  
"Especially now that we know there are going to be babies," he agreed. "I'd say triplets at least."

  
She reached wildly for her phone--the PTA girls HAD to hear about THIS--then remembered it was inside the house. Her iced tea sloshed out onto her shorts as she vaulted up from the lounge chair and she gave a squawk, hopping from foot to foot straight legged as she made for the door to the house. The day had just gotten A WHOLE LOT more interesting.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity still had one hand on the stick, dragging it along the ground one minute, twirling it idly in the air the next. Her other hand was being held by Oliver, who was keeping a wary eye out behind them every now and again, just in case.

As they passed their neighbor's fence Felicity thought she heard a squawk. She tipped her head to the side and squinted up at him quizzically.

  
"Did you hear something?"

  
Oliver brought her hand up to his lips for a kiss. "Honey, I'm pretty sure you've already met the scariest thing Ivy Town has to offer," he assured her.


	2. Chapter 2

Working from home could be the most underrated luxury of all time. Here she was, still in her Matryoshka pjs, eating junk food and butt dancing to The 1975 while reviewing end of quarter reports. None of these things could happen inside a glass-walled office, at least not with her dignity intact. Felicity was halfway through her--the number is not important--Twizzler when her phone began to ring. Oliver's Contacts photo popped up on the screen.

  
"Yo," she greeted him on speaker, trying to disguise the fact that her mouth was full of candy.

  
"Hey," he said back in his Felicity voice, and she smiled. "I'm going to be out longer than I thought getting the oil changed; turns out Porsche dealerships aren't as prolific as you might think." Felicity smirked and rolled her eyes; duh, Oliver.

  
"You're smirking, aren't you."

  
Her eyes went wide--how the heck could he tell?!

  
"So anyway," he continued, "could you do me a favor and pick up a couple things from the store? By the time I get home from doing this it will be time to start dinner."

  
Felicity almost swallowed the rest of the Twizzler whole and her eyes bulged as she spluttered.

  
"The store? Like the store, store? The big one?"

  
She heard him huff a laugh. "Yes, Felicity. The big one. You'll be fine. Haven't you been in a supermarket before?"

  
"Oliver, I grew up on casino nachos and virgin cocktails, so no. If it's bigger than a bodega then I have no frame of reference."

  
He sighed through the phone and she knew he was running a hand through his hair.

  
"Look, it's just a couple of things. All the aisles are well marked. You can do this."

  
"But what if something happens and you're not there?" She was getting desperate; a little damsel in distress action couldn't hurt.

  
"No one from the League of Assassins shops there. I checked. Please say yes. I promise to make it up to you any way you like tonight."

  
She groaned dramatically as her head dropped onto the table, though "tonight" held a lot of yummy possibilities.

  
"Fine. But I'm making a list of my own. For the making up part tonight."

  
"Great. Texting you the list. See you in a bit."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity's first thought as she walked through the supermarket entrance was that she shouldn't have bothered changing out of her pjs for this mission; she was possibly the best dressed person in the store, and she hadn't made much of an effort. She chose a shopping cart from the end of a long line and gave it a tug, except--what the hell?--it seemed to be chained to all the other carts like some sort of prison road crew nightmare and where was Oliver when you needed him because OF COURSE she would come shopping on Chain Gang Day--

  
"Here, let me help." A kindly old lady who barely came up to Felicity's shoulder handed her a quarter and pointed to the slot so she could free the cart.

  
"Oh, huh," Felicity replied lamely. She started to apologize for hijacking the nice lady's quarter, but saw that she had already moved on.

  
Most of Oliver's list was pretty straight forward, and little by little she began checking items off. Avoiding the temptation of all the things that WEREN'T on the list was the hard part. Oliver was a strictly non-dairy guy (which Felicity thought was utterly crazy, because CHEESE), so she threw a block of cheddar in the cart to show him who was boss.

  
Finally she was down to her last two items, but now she was stuck. She searched up and down every aisle with no luck. On her second trip from one end of the store to the other she passed a toddler laid out on the floor, kicking and screaming, and for once knew exactly how he felt. Just as she was about to give up all hope and abandon the damn list for a carton of mint chip she heard a masculine voice behind her.

  
"What are we not finding?"

  
"Breadcrumbs! Sorry about the loud voice. It's just that I've been over this store twice already and they are NOWHERE. Should they be in the bread aisle? I mean, that's logical, right? Except only if it's a do-it-yourself kind of thing. But there is definitely no "Crumbs" aisle. No crumbs of any kind. Well, crumb cakes, which I don't think is right but I decided to get anyway, just in case..." she trailed off with a huff, mostly from lack of oxygen.

She referenced the box (boxes; she'd grabbed two because they looked yummy) of crumb cakes with a small sweep of her hand, completely dejected. She still hadn't looked up.

  
"Come on."

  
Hope swelled in her chest. As she turned her cart around to follow, Felicity finally began to take notice of the form attached to the voice: Tall, broad shouldered, longish curlyish dark hair (by choice, or just overdue for a trim? hmm), roughly Oliver's age, shirt and tie, clipboard. Store manager, maybe? Definitely someone in the know, because THERE THEY WERE, dammit, breadcrumbs.

  
"Ah, so I was right. They do come preassembled. Or disassembled, I guess." She spared him a glance finally. Cute. "Thanks."

  
"What else you got?" He switched his clipboard to the other hand in order to lean closer and peek at the list.

  
"Quinoa." She studied the word for a beat. "I'm going to need a hint on this one: Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

  
"It's a grain. You're going to love it. Follow me."

  
Moments later she was holding a bag in her hands; White Quinoa, Pre-rinsed, it read.

  
"Huh. When I heard the word "quinoa" I always pictured that actor from Gladiator."

  
"That's "Joaquin". Good try, though." He grinned. "You seem to be new here."

  
"To Ivy Town or grocery stores," she quipped with an eye roll, then realized he meant the former. "Um, yes, new to town."

  
"Oh? Where did you move from?"

  
In her years as Overwatch Felicity had learned that the fewer questions one had to answer the safer everyone stayed, so she kept her answer to a vague "Star City."

  
He nodded approvingly, shifting to lean his shoulder against the shelf behind him, clipboard against his chest. She finally spotted a name tag, which read "Jerry".

  
"Great city. What do you miss most?"

  
Felicity froze up for a moment: What did she miss? Dig and Thea and her babies in the Lair and Big Belly anytime she wanted and--OMG--the salmon ladder and the adrenaline rush she got while keeping her team safe...

  
"Sushi," she finally replied, rather lamely.

  
He smiled, with a little glimmer of something else she couldn't name behind his eyes.

  
"Well, it must've been exciting, living with a vigilante."

  
Frack! Felicity tensed, then immediately tried to look nonchalant. Jerry leaned in close, still smiling.

  
"You know, I have a secret identity of my own."

  
Frackity frack! How did he know?! It was the green tee shirt and her flats with the arrows printed on them that gave her away, wasn't it? Definitely too on the nose. Dig's self defense moves flashed through her mind, but she was frozen with indecision: Leg sweep, knee to the groin, what move did this situation call for? Except wait, he was still talking. Focus, Felicity!

  
"Before I became a culinary school drop out I made a mean sushi roll. It's kind of my super power." He winked at her as she stared. "Give me ten minutes in the deli and I'll fix you up."

  
Felicity faked a smile as he walked away, the warning bells in her head gradually fading when he returned as promised with a container of neatly presented sashimi and not the cops, assuring her that it was a welcome to the neighborhood gift.

  
But even the surprise of getting her quarter back when she returned her cart couldn't outweigh the feeling that things were not as they seemed.

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Oliver came through the door just a few minutes behind her, in time to help put away the groceries, but too soon to give her a chance to hide all the things that weren't on the list. He put the block of cheddar in the fridge without comment, but did offer a single, elegant lift of an eyebrow at (all) the crumb cakes.

  
"How was the grocery," he asked, brushing a kiss through her hair as he passed behind her.

  
Felicity chose her words carefully, still trying to shake the weirdness of super-cute Jerry.

  
"It was fine."

  
Oh, how that man knew her. Oliver stopped in front of the fridge, frozen except for his head which swiveled immediately to her. She was powerless to avoid those blue eyes; he locked onto hers and stared.

  
"Fe-li-ci-ty."

  
"No seriously, it was fine. Just," she broke eye contact, focusing on her fingers tangled together on the countertop. Oliver was at her elbow so fast she jumped. When she looked back up at him--way up, she was still in the flats with the arrows--his eyes were boring into hers, his body on high alert.

  
Felicity sighed. "Okay, I had this weird conversation with a guy at the store. I don't know, it was probably nothing, just, it took a weird turn, and, he helped me find the quinoa, so that part was good, and he was super cute about making me sushi, I mean the SUSHI was super cute..."

  
Oliver just kept up with the stare, long after her explanation had petered away to silence.

  
"Maybe you should start at the beginning."


	3. Chapter 3

"So just as I'm losing the will to live, Jerry turns up and helps me find the quinoa AND the breadcrumbs."

Felicity paused to take another sip of red from her perch on the bar stool. She was barefoot now, legs swinging out against the island and back to the stool so that her toes could catch and grip the bottom rail. Out and back, out and back. The wine was simultaneously calming her and loosening her up. She continued with her story, adding all the details she could think of, because Oliver was a details guy.

He'd begun the dinner preparations as soon as the wine was poured, busying himself slicing up peppers and onions. Felicity couldn't help punctuating her tale with asides like "Isn't that a great pepper? I picked that out all by myself," and he would "Mmhm" and nod approvingly as he worked.

He had found that the precision work of chopping and slicing soothed him the same way making arrowheads did. (Plus he'd always been handy with a knife.) It was easy to fall back into the feelings of those late nights in the Lair, him crafting weapons and Felicity chatting away from her computers, keeping his demons at bay with her candor and quiet positivity.

  
His thoughts would usually drift at these moments, but tonight as he worked he was ON, and she could tell. Oliver kept quiet to let her tell her story, eyes down at his work, but she knew he was paying very close attention, parsing out all the things she wasn't saying between her words. He'd detected a threat, and now he needed to assess it.

  
By the time Felicity had finished her tale he had transferred the veggies to the sauté pan and moved on to slice her a couple of thin pieces of cheddar to nibble while he shredded an additional small pile into a bowl for her to use in her fajitas.

  
"So what do you think?" It came out sounding a little funny because she had a mouthful of cheese. His eyes flicked up to hers as he wiped his hands on a towel.

  
"Overall he sounds pretty harmless, but I haven't lived this long by assuming everyone is who they seem," he said simply. "Maybe we should see what we can dig up on him, just to be safe."

  
Felicity's laptop sat at the opposite end of the island, out of her reach even if she stretched. She gave him grabby hands and he snagged it for her with one hand, swiping her wine glass clear with the other as she dragged the computer in front of her with a happy wiggle.

  
While she worked Oliver turned his attention to the far counter where the slow cooker had been silently working for hours. As he pulled the lid off and began to shred the chicken breasts inside Felicity suddenly gave a low sexy moan which froze him to the spot and made his eyes go wide; he was not accustomed to hearing that kind of sound in the kitchen.

  
"Oliver," she purred, "that chicken smells a-MAZE-ing..."

  
He huffed a laugh.

  
The soft click of laptop keys resumed and a comfortable silence fell over them as he finished the veggies and plated their dinners. They usually ate informally at the island, but with the laptop out and in use Oliver quickly set the dining room table instead and laid out the food. He was just about to call off the search until after they'd eaten when Felicity gave out a puzzled "Hmm."

  
"What did you find," he inquired, stepping up behind her to take a look over her shoulder.

  
"It seems my new friend Jerry doesn't exist, at least as far as that supermarket is concerned."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity started up a facial recognition search and then they dug in to dinner, tossing speculations back and forth between bites. Just as they were polishing off the last of the fajitas her laptop gave off the tell-tale bloop bloop sound of a Skype call coming in.

  
"It's Thea," Felicity chirped as she settled herself back on the barstool and accepted the call with a "Hey you," in greeting.

  
"Sorry to call during dinner, but I figured it was the only time of the day you're not doing it," the tiny brunette quipped. Oliver paused behind Felicity's shoulder to give his baby sister a 'What the hell?' look before continuing his trip to the sink with their dishes.

  
"What's up," Felicity asked, tearing open a crumb cake package. She silently offered one to Oliver, but he pantomimed a horrified No! and swiped an apple from the fruit bowl with a wink. She stuck her tongue out at him.

  
"Thea, what does your brother have against sweets," she asked with a huff.

  
"Oh he was the king of sugar as a kid," Thea scoffed. "Raisa couldn't keep up with his demands."

  
Felicity grinned as she raised questioning eyebrows at Oliver and he shrugged his agreement. There had been a time in his life when those crumb cakes would have been scarfed up as soon as they entered the house. But being forced to quit sugar cold turkey on the island had done the most to get it out of his system. The Chinese weren't super big into sweets, and Russian desserts reminded him too much of Raisa, so before he knew it five years had passed and taken his sweet tooth with them.

  
"Did you get the email I sent today," Thea asked, already feeling like she was in a losing battle with Oliver for Felicity's attention.

  
"I did," the blond replied, in a way that made it clear she had more to say but couldn't with certain company in the room.

  
"Can we still do the thing tomorrow night," Thea pressed.

  
"The thing, yes. Definitely planning to do the thing," Felicity hedged, and something in her voice alerted Oliver to investigate further.

  
"What thing?" He'd come to stand next to Felicity so that he could see Thea on the screen.

  
"Online jewelry party," his sister answered smoothly. Felicity was suddenly concentrating heavily on her crumb cake.

  
"Oh. Well have fun with that," he said sarcastically, snagging his jacket off the back of Felicity's barstool and heading purposefully out of the kitchen through the mud room.

  
"Where are you going."

It wasn't a question.

Thea let out a small but gleeful "Uh oh." There was a longish pause before Oliver's head appeared around the doorframe.

  
"Hm?" His lips were pulled in and his eyebrows were up in the best innocent face he could muster.

  
Felicity stared, head tipped to the side in challenge. Seconds passed. Without breaking eye contact she slid the laptop around to face him so that Thea, arms crossed and lips pursed, could also stare him down. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two women comically before he finally broke.

  
"I thought you might like some macaroni to go with the cheese you bought, because you know how you love my homemade mac and cheese, but we're out of macaroni so..." He slowed to a halt, finally understanding how Felicity must feel mid-babble.

  
"Don't you dare do anything bad to Jerry until we have a reason to do something bad to Jerry," she demanded. Oliver nodded emphatically in agreement.

  
"I promise. No bad things."

  
Felicity was already spinning Thea-in-a-laptop back to face her when she yelled after him, "Can you get corkscrew pasta instead? Please and thank you!"

  
"What was that about," Thea demanded, her interest piqued.

  
Felicity quickly filled her in on the day's adventures, ending with the fact that helpful, super cute Jerry didn't seem to be an employee there at all.

  
"Well. How intriguing! I'd offer to help, but there's nothing we could do here that you can't do faster from there. Speaking of which," she segued, "how are you going to get Ollie out of the house tomorrow night so we can, you know, collaborate?"

  
Felicity propped her chin in her hands and gave Thea a cheeky smile.

  
"Oh, I have a plan."

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Oliver pulled into the supermarket parking lot as the sun was beginning its slow drop behind the building. He strolled in through the automatic doors like a man whose only concern was macaroni. Or cavatappi. Felicity had given him a pretty detailed description of Jerry (he tried not to think about THAT too hard), so he was confident he would be able to recognize him if he was still in the store.

  
Rounding the corner into the produce department he slowed to a halt; Mr Tall, Dark, and Handsome was juggling oranges in front of a little girl in a shopping cart while her mother swooned. Oliver watched him make a kiwi appear from behind the little girl's ear, then show her mother how to use her smartphone to scan the QR on the fruit for recipes.

  
Oliver busied himself sniffing cantaloupe and trying not to look like a stalker while he observed the antics. Good God, Felicity had found herself the grocery store version of Ray Palmer. As if to prove his point, Jerry gave the little girl a large goofy grin and waved merrily as she and her mother moved away. Oliver rolled his eyes.

  
As his target moved on to another department, it dawned on Oliver that conducting a surveillance mission in a brightly lit store full of people was quite a bit different to the way he was accustomed. He tried giving the mandarin oranges a meaningful glance as he moved to follow, then decided that grabbing a bag would be good cover.

He drifted on through the store, picking up items randomly and attempting to look more like a hunter/gatherer than a predator. It didn't take long for him to wish he'd grabbed a cart on the way in; his hands were beginning to get full.

  
Jerry appeared to be making a thorough sweep of the store, straightening shelves and checking in with employees. They seemed to know him as well, so it was doubtful he was just pretending to work here for nefarious reasons. But then why wouldn't he show up in Felicity's search? In his musings Oliver almost missed the pasta.

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And just like that, Carla Jenson's Moms' Night Out suddenly improved. The group was on to phase two of their monthly get-together, phase one being dinner in the bar side of Applebee's and flirting with the twenty-something guys who were more interested in staking out their Monday Night Football spots than flirting back with the thirty-something mom set. Slightly tipsy grocery shopping always followed dinner, not because it was cool, but because somebody was always out of diapers, or cottage cheese, or--Lordy--wine, so every MNO ended up there eventually.

  
Carla was rounding the corner into the Pasta/International Foods aisle (with Hildy Tucker riding in her cart, partly because Hildy was tiny and it was fun to stick her in things, and partly because she was missing her shoes and nobody could remember why) when she spotted him: Mister-Super-Hot-Neighbor-Who-Runs (and is Apparently-Very-Well-Endowed). He glanced up at the same time Hildy said "What?", and Carla realized she hadn't just said that in her head.

He nodded politely as he passed them, his arms full of groceries, but he had the look of a man on a mission (or of a man trying not to notice that there was a grown woman in her shopping cart) and she lost her nerve and couldn't speak to him. Before he'd taken ten steps Carla had her phone out, texting the others who were spread out all over the store.

  
911--RUNNING GUY SIGHTING!!!! She followed it up with a string of emojis, not all of which made any sense. There was no need to elaborate further; every female in the neighborhood knew who Running Guy was, plus a good portion of dinner had been spent in speculation about Running Guy and the conversation with the unknown woman Carla had overheard from her backyard.

  
Reports came back almost immediately:

  
BREAD AISLE--OMG!!

  
SO HOT!! THE JEANS!! KILL ME NOW.

  
He's in the deli. What's he doing without a cart? Those arms, though. (That was Bethany, who didn't drink and refused to text in capitals or abbreviations.)

  
HE'S AT THE CHECKOUT! HE'S LEAVING! NOOOO!!!

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Jerry had disappeared into the stock room of the deli and Oliver was having trouble juggling everything in his arms, so he decided it was time to call off the mission and get home. With his focus off his target he became aware of a nagging sense that he was being followed. But there didn't seem to be anyone else in the store at this point besides harmless looking women, all of whom were busy on their phones. Oliver sighed as he stepped up to the cashier: His years as a vigilante had made him paranoid.

  
He turned his thoughts to the "making up" to Felicity he still needed to do this evening and suddenly couldn't contain a grin of anticipation. He didn't even notice the small army of women with grocery carts that had formed behind him as he exited the store.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy that 5x22 aired before I posted this chapter--gave me the opportunity to add an Easter Egg! ;)

Felicity was still sitting at the island typing away when Oliver came through the door. She gave a low whistle at the sight of the grocery bags in his hands; Oliver frowned.

  
"Tailing someone without the cover of darkness is more challenging."

  
"Not to mention more expensive," she quipped, suppressing a grin when he upgraded to the Green Arrow frown. He set the bags down, then propped his elbows on the counter and scrubbed both hands over his face, prompting Felicity to reach out and stroke one of his arms.

  
"So did you see him do anything suspicious," she asked.

  
"Suspicious, no. Weird, definitely."

  
She tutted at him and he lifted his face from his hands to look her in the eye.

  
"He juggled oranges."

  
"Look," he continued, raising his hands defensively when she snorted, "he seems to be harmless, and the other employees acted like he was supposed to be there, so maybe he's legit. It just seems odd that we can't find any record of his employment."

Oliver raised himself up off the counter and absently worked on putting his purchases away. "Did you come up with anything new?"

  
"Nooo," Felicity dragged out the word with a lot of meaning behind it, which caused him to stop and look at her, "but it's possible I'm about to hack into their corporate office system and plant a program I just created that will rearrange the floor plan of the store to maximize efficiency and make it easier to find the damn breadcrumbs...." she trailed off as his hands went to his hips in exasperation.

She studied him for a moment, calculating; the Green Arrow frown was back.

  
"...which I will hold off doing for the time being."

  
Oliver sighed and stepped around the island to rest both hands on her shoulders.

  
"Look, let's give it a rest for tonight." He leaned down next to her ear. "I don't want to think about Jerry when we have so many other things we could be doing with our time."

  
Felicity grinned and glanced out the window. The sun had set and fireflies were beginning to light up the night sky.

  
"Well then, Mr Queen, grab the blankets and meet me outside in ten."

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It was hard to say what made the Jenson twins get up with the sun the next morning. Colin and Callie were three and a half years old and already knew their alphabet, their colors, and could count to one hundred. They never stopped talking, unless they were on a mission, and this particular Tuesday morning they definitely had a mission.

Without making a sound they crept downstairs and out the back door into their yard, and like pint-sized ninja assassins set their sights on their plastic playhouse in the middle of the lawn (which they had pointedly ignored for the last three months). Working together in the silent synchronicity known only to twins, they pushed the playhouse across the grass until it butted up against the wooden privacy fence they shared with next door.

After a silent look of agreement Colin boosted his sister up onto the roof of the playhouse and waited patiently as she stretched up on her tiptoes and peeked over the fence.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity's first thought upon waking was that the sun was shining unusually bright through the curtains. Her second thought was mild surprise to discover that there WERE no curtains. Her third thought, as she blinked against the sunlight, was that it seemed odd that a small blonde head would be peeking at her over the top of their fence. And then it hit her.

  
"Holy fra..!" She stopped herself just in time, although a portion of her brain was already arguing that technically "frack" wasn't a swear word unless you were on board the Galactica. Either way, her whisper shout brought Oliver up out of a sound sleep and almost to his feet, except Felicity finally got her wits about her and was able to clamp a hand onto his forearm and keep him from springing up and dislodging the blanket.

  
"Wha..?" was all he got out before he too spotted the little face. "Um, oh," he continued lamely, and Felicity knew without looking that his face would be bright red.

  
There commenced a long moment of staring as each party sized up the other. Felicity couldn't remember if you were supposed to maintain eye contact or avoid it at all costs; or if, in fact, the eye contact rule only applied to animals. Admittedly she didn't have much experience with either animals or small children, and she had certainly never encountered either while in the nude. In her backyard. In broad daylight. Frack.

  
"Oliver," she muttered without looking his way, "what do we do?"

  
"Uh..."

  
Apparently her boyfriend had lost the power of speech. She glanced around for the clothes she was pretty sure they had started the night off with, but her heart sank when she spotted them several feet away on the patio in a heap. There was only the one blanket covering them at the moment, so short of an elaborate coordinated effort across the lawn there was no way to retrieve anybody's clothes without turning their backyard into an HBO special.

  
Just as it looked like the standoff could last until lunch, the little girl glanced back over her shoulder and down toward the ground. She gave a small nod to something or someone below her, and then her head disappeared out of sight.

Luckily for Felicity, Oliver Queen had always been quicker with actions than words. She let out a surprised squawk as he scooped her up, blanket and all, and made a beeline for the house.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carla Jenson was only mildly surprised to find the twins missing from their beds. She discovered them downstairs in the living room, curled up on either end of the sofa, sound asleep like little blonde cherubs.

She stumbled into the kitchen to fire up the Keurig, already looking forward to a nap. When her husband appeared dressed for work she was nursing her first cup of coffee, staring out into the backyard and mentally preparing for another day of mothering toddlers.

  
He joined her with his own cup and they stood in silence for a moment until Carla suddenly made the decision to take advantage of the silence, sneak back into bed for 40 minutes until it was time to get the older kid up, and pretend she was a happy single person again who never had to worry about tiny humans interrupting her sleep.

  
As she shuffled out of the room her husband finally broke the silence.

  
"Did the twins move their playhouse?"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How many years until we can look back on that and laugh," Felicity groaned, both hands over her face. They had gone back to bed after their narrow escape, but the adrenaline dump wasn't going to allow Oliver to sleep, and Felicity was too humiliated to even try. She was buried up to her neck in bedcovers while Oliver did push ups on the floor by the side of the bed.

  
She suddenly sat straight up, covers clutched to her chest.

  
"Nothing like this happened on the Pacific Crest Trail, and there isn't even a privacy fence on the Pacific Crest Trail," Felicity practically shouted. She flopped dramatically back down onto the mattress.

  
"How did we manage to sleep out there all night," she wailed, a fresh wave of embarrassment hitting her.

  
"You fell asleep...after, and I tried waking you up once but you mumbled something about 'sexy camping' and rolled over. I must have drifted off after that," Oliver supplied, the back of his head appearing and disappearing regularly as he executed the push ups. Normally Felicity would find this very distracting, but this morning she was too upset to notice.

  
"I'm never having sex again," she moaned, which caused Oliver to freeze in the "up" position long enough to shoot her a look. She pulled the covers all the way over her head and continued to moan and groan intermittently for the next few minutes.

  
Oliver finished his set, got to his feet, then leaned over the bed to Felicity.

  
"Look. You get some more sleep. I'm going for a run, and when I get back I'll make you breakfast."

  
She pulled the covers down far enough to uncover one eye. "Omelets?"

  
"Sure."

  
"With cheese?"

  
He grinned indulgently. "Yes, with cheese. Hey," he added softly, pushing her hair off of her face with his fingers, "it's going to be okay."

  
He leaned closer and planted a kiss on her forehead before pulling away. But then he hesitated, lunged forward, and peppered her face with kisses until she shrieked with laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

The adult contingent of the bus stop crowd was mostly silent and a little bleary eyed; this was not unusual for the morning after Moms' Night Out. Carla noticed that Bethany was shepherding Hildy's school-aged kids as well as her own. (They never did find her shoes.) The two moms shared a wry look over the tops of their kids' heads before Bethany caught sight of something over Carla's shoulder and suddenly stiffened.

  
"Good Lord, there he is," she muttered.

  
Carla turned her head to look before she could stop herself; she was pretty sure she was too hungover for subtlety this morning anyway.

  
Like clockwork, Running Guy had appeared at the end of his driveway, shaking out his arms and legs and then bouncing on his toes like a boxer. Carla had seen this routine several times since he moved in, but she couldn't get over the fact that although he never looked around or acknowledged anyone else during this part of his warmup, she got the impression that he knew exactly what was going on all around him. It gave her goosebumps, in a good way.

  
As the two women stood there trying not to gawk, Callie spoke up.

  
"That's the man I saw," she announced confidently, pointing her small finger. Carla looked down at the little girl holding her hand.

  
"Saw where, sweets?"

  
"In the backyard."

  
"Whose backyard," Carla prompted, feeling interest edge toward mild alarm.

  
"His. He was with a lady. They were sleeping."

  
Carla's eyes slowly tracked upward until she locked gazes with Bethany, whose eyes were so wide her eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. Without breaking eye contact with her friend, Carla gave Callie's hand a squeeze to keep her attention.

  
"When did you see this?"

  
"This morning," Callie replied, to which Colin, holding her other hand, nodded in agreement.

  
The man in question chose that moment to set off on his run, which took him right past their group waiting at the corner. Always friendly once he got underway, he gave a small wave and a smile as he passed them, at exactly the same moment Colin decided to add his two cents to the conversation.

  
"They weren't wearing any clothes," he supplied loudly.

  
Carla could have sworn that her handsome neighbor stumbled just a little as he jogged past, but the blood rushing to her face in mortification was taking up too much of her attention to dwell on it. She shushed her son vehemently and in return he shot her that annoyed look that perfectly impersonated her husband.

Her brain, still a bit sleep fuzzed and muzzy from last night's drinking, slowly began to pull some pieces together. With no words but a shared look of understanding, Carla left her oldest with Bethany, pivoted toward her own house with the twins, and marched to the side gate and then on through into her yard.

  
The playhouse was still butted up against the privacy fence; Carla's stomach dropped in dread when she saw it. She let go of her children's hands and approached the playhouse as if in a trance. She eyed the plastic structure for a moment and then the six foot fence beside it.

A couple of experimental jumps confirmed that she would not be able to get a look at the other side without something to stand on, so she put one foot on the windowsill of the little house, grabbed onto the top of the fence with both hands, and hoisted herself up.

  
All the evidence of a romantic evening under the stars was still in his yard: A blanket and two pillows spread out on the grass, an empty bottle of wine and two glasses, and--oh God--a pile of clothing nearby on the patio.

  
Carla lowered herself to the ground and composed her face before turning to the twins.

  
"What..." She stopped her question and stood there studying them in silence for a moment before making another try.

  
"Were they wearing ANYTHING when you saw them?"

  
"A blanket," Callie confidently replied. Carla blew out the breath she'd been holding.

  
"Whose idea was it to do THIS," she asked then, flipping a hand at the playhouse without taking her eyes off of them. The twins shrugged in unison, like some kind of pint-sized vaudeville act. She sighed.

  
"Did they see you? Did they say anything to you?" Callie started to shake her head yes, then no, then she stopped altogether, confused by the multiple questions with different answers. Colin remained motionless, his eyes never leaving his mother, which told her he probably hadn't seen anything at all. After another lengthy silence Carla sighed again.

  
"It's not right to spy on people." It's not right to be that good looking or to have sexy times in the backyard either, but she kept that thought to herself. "Put the playhouse back where you found it, please."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver's run turned into a nightmare about seven seconds after it began. As he jogged past the group of adults and children standing at the corner, a high pitched voice carried quite clearly over the morning air, and he almost stumbled as he heard, "They weren't wearing any clothes."

  
Nononononono, he thought to himself, because he knew who "they" were. So much for his reassurances to Felicity that everything would be fine.

  
She was in the shower when he got back an hour later, so he whipped up the omelettes, wolfed his down, then disappeared into the bathroom while she was getting dressed. By the time he was done getting ready Felicity was already holed up in the den on a conference call. He blew out a sigh of relief: The longer he could avoid telling her about his run the better.

  
He made a quick-yet-agonizing trip into the backyard to collect the rest of the evidence of their nighttime activities, and Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that a tiny head might appear above the top of the fence at any moment. Geez, there is nothing creepier than having a small child stare at you in silence, he thought with a shiver.

  
He managed to avoid Felicity until lunchtime, but by then she was so engrossed with the day's stock prices and the latest developments at Palmer Tech that she forgot to ask about the run.

  
She did reach out a hand to snag his arm as he was headed out of the kitchen after lunch, so he stopped to give her a peck on the lips, but then he realized there was something she wanted to say.

  
"Sooooo," she began, "There's this thing I totally forgot about that's happening tonight and one of us has to go." Felicity gave him her brightest smile as she held a piece of paper up between them: It was a notice of the annual Home Owners Association meeting.

  
Oliver frowned, non-plussed, and folded his arms over his chest.

  
"Felicity..."

  
"I know, it'll be a drag. But they require a representative from each house, or their lawyer. Crazy, I know, but I don't think Palmer Tech's legal team would appreciate being carried here by Barry in order to make it in time, and if we're going to live quietly in the burbs we don't want to cause a scene by fighting this."

  
His frown stayed in place, and he added Green Arrow growly noises for good measure. Felicity tipped her head to the side and batted her eyelashes.

  
"PLEASE...?" she begged prettily. "I've spent all morning in virtual meetings, and I have three more scheduled this afternoon."

  
Oliver heaved a giant sigh. "Fine."

  
"Thank you. I love you," she sing-songed, grinning up at him.

  
"Love you too," he murmured, moving in for another peck.

They were only inches apart when Felicity added, "I think this means it'll be my turn to make it up to YOU." But then her eyes went wide and she stuck up a warning finger. "But not outside."

Oliver nodded vigorously in agreement.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Around five o'clock Felicity emerged from the den, working a kink out of her neck and sighing. "I hate all-day meetings. I would kill for dim sum right now."

  
Oliver switched off Sportscenter and looked up.

  
"So let's go out tonight."

  
Ten minutes later they were headed out in Felicity's new car. Her original Mini Cooper's upholstery had not survived BleedingOut!Oliver, and she remembered with a grin how Queen Consolidated had quietly and mysteriously stepped in a month after the incident to buy out her lease and make the car disappear.

Now, after a couple of years with a VW Beetle, Felicity was back to a Mini, even though Oliver had groused all last week while she was looking at it about how ridiculous he felt squeezing his large frame into the passenger seat (not to mention the associated bad memories of being shot by his own mother.) Felicity had found that fawning over a few Fiat 500s at a neighboring dealership was the key to convincing him that a Mini Cooper was the way to go.

  
The supermarket was in the same strip as the Chinese restaurant, and as Felicity pulled in they spotted Jerry leaving the store and getting into a brand new blue Corvette. Felicity slowed down and the two exchanged a glance.

  
"That's a pretty fancy car for a grocery store manager to be driving," Oliver commented with a frown.

  
"Is this the time to mention that you're currently unemployed but drive a Porsche," she asked nonchalantly. He shot her a look.

  
They hung back and watched Jerry pull out of his parking spot and drive away.

  
"You're thinking we should follow him, aren't you," Felicity said quietly. Oliver responded with a small nod, eyes calculating. She gave a longing look to the Chinese restaurant as they drove past, then turned out of the parking lot to follow.

  
"You don't want to be too close; leave four or five cars--"

  
"Oliver, I know how to tail a car," Felicity huffed, and he turned his head to study her profile.

  
"Dig taught me, years ago, while you were back on the island after the Undertaking. We used to pick a car and just follow it around town. I got pretty good at it." She glanced over at his expression and huffed again. "Don't look so surprised."

  
They drove in silence for several minutes, traveling further from the more commercial side of town into nicer and nicer neighborhoods. Finally the neighborhoods turned into individual estates, some with gates at the end of the driveway. Oliver and Felicity shared another look.

  
Traffic had thinned considerably, causing Felicity to fall further and further back, until far ahead they saw the Corvette's brake lights. He turned into a driveway and disappeared. Oliver quickly scanned in all directions around their car, then instructed her to slow down as she pulled past the driveway so he could get a look.

  
"It's a long drive, lots of trees. Let's find a place to turn around."

  
On the second pass she turned the Mini into the drive and crept forward slowly, until Oliver pointed to a break in the trees where she could pull over. She stopped the car and they looked at each other in silence.

  
"We're going up to the house, aren't we," she said in a resigned voice.

  
"Yep," he replied.

  
Felicity sighed and reached behind her seat for the spare sneakers she always left in the car, just in case. With Oliver riding shotgun, you could never be TOO prepared.

  
They stayed to the side of the drive, but didn't try to conceal themselves in the woods. Oliver explained that since they couldn't completely hide the Mini they would have to feign car trouble if anyone came along, and nobody would believe that story if they were skulking in the trees.

  
They finally reached the end of the drive and a giant house appeared in front of them. Felicity wanted to give a low whistle, but she had a not-irrational fear of attack dogs, and refrained. Oliver slipped into the trees then, pulling her with him, in order to get a long look at the place. Felicity saw it first.

  
"Oliver," she whispered, pointing to the wing of the house that was solid garage doors; she counted six. One of the doors was up, and in it sat a brand new blue Corvette.

  
"You don't park your car in the garage if you're just visiting, do you?"

  
Oliver looked at her and shook his head "no".

  
He took her hand and they trotted back up the drive to her car, then headed back toward town.

  
"Well, that's a giant lead," she noted, wishing she'd asked Oliver to drive home so she could fire up her tablet and get to work. As they pulled back into the parking lot of their original destination Oliver checked his watch and sighed.

  
"I don't think we'll have time to eat it here--take out okay?" She nodded and he headed inside to order.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time they walked through the back door into their own kitchen it was 6:30. Oliver rushed through his dinner, fervently wishing that he didn't have to go to this Homeowner meeting thing. He considered making a pitch to get out of it, but Felicity could read him like a book; her eyes were already wary. He sighed, popped a last dumpling into his mouth, and set off for the meeting.

He pulled up in front of the community pool and clubhouse at five minutes after seven. It was not a huge room, and it was packed; he found a space to lean against the back wall and crossed his arms, hoping he could stay awake.

Oliver Queen had seen combat. He had fought armies of bad guys, super villains bent on world domination, evil men with mystical powers, and meta humans. None of that really prepared him for a room full of angry homeowners debating the constitutionality of mini barns.

Things started pleasantly enough, but as soon as they came to the Open Forum portion of the meeting all hell broke loose. Accusations flew thick and fast; Oliver felt like he was at a tennis match. Apparently this was the one day a year when everyone could air their grievances against fences they didn't like, homes they thought were unsightly, and Board members they didn't trust. It was bewildering and a little scary, to be honest.

  
At one point the woman standing next to him leaned in and asked in a low voice if this was his first meeting. Oliver nodded a wide-eyed "yes" and she smiled kindly.

  
"This is actually pretty tame. Last year the police came." She chuckled at his amazed look. "Laura Hoffman," she introduced herself with a smile.

  
"Oliver Queen," he replied, glad to have an ally in this mess.

  
"You run in the neighborhood most days," she continued, and he nodded again. Her smile became more knowing. "It has not gone unnoticed."

Oliver's brows knit in confusion and concern, but she couldn't elaborate right away: A woman up front began yelling that the Board members paid themselves a salary under the table out of everyone else's yearly dues; she had to be forcibly restrained. Laura leaned back in to continue.

  
"You've caused quite a stir at the bus stop in the mornings. Hadn't you noticed?" Oliver looked a little wary, but said nothing. He scanned the room as the meeting raged on, suddenly noticing the shy glances, occasional peeks over shoulders, and sometimes brazen smiles being offered to him by various women in the room. It was quite unsettling.

  
"Are you single," Laura asked then, voice low so as not to attract attention.

  
"Uh, no, my girlfriend and I both live there," he said, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning. Laura gave him a meaningful look.

  
"Well, if I were you I'd introduce her to everyone in the neighborhood; the sooner the better. My husband and I are having a party Saturday night--bring your girl." She jotted down the address on the back of a receipt from her purse and handed it over. Oliver tried to look nonchalant during the handoff, because with all the eyes on him it felt like a drug deal. Then one woman winked at him quite openly and he almost shoved the paper back at Laura because--Good grief, what did they think he was?! His face burned.

  
As soon as the meeting was adjourned Oliver slipped out and hot-footed it to his car. Apparently he and Felicity had given off the wrong first impression in this neighborhood, and some damage control was in order. It was time they went to a party.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly Moses it’s been awhile, but I’m back with an update! If no other story ideas interrupt me (Rude) I should have this wrapped up in the very near future.  
> Thanks for reading!

Felicity chewed her lip in thought, red pen tapping on the island counter. She had just signed off her Skype session with Thea after brainstorming about the latest threat to Starling--Star, that was going to be hard to get used to--City. These "ghosts" were a puzzle, and she longed to pick Oliver's brain, but she knew better than to spill her secret: That she'd continued working with the team after she and Oliver left on their great adventure. 

She knew he needed a clean break from it all, to rest his body and his mind for the first time in almost a decade. She couldn't pull him back into this before he was ready, but neither could she leave their friends high and dry.

To clear her thoughts she Google Mapped the mansion they'd spied on earlier in the evening. Once she had the address she needed she pulled up all the goodies, and suddenly pieces began falling into place. In fact, they looked to be tied up so neatly that Felicity celebrated by popping herself some popcorn and settling cross legged on the couch for some long-overdue quality time with Netflix.

Just as she was making her selection a notification pinged on her phone. She tilted her head to look at it and her eyes went wide.

"Yesss!" She fist pumped wildly, nearly upsetting the popcorn bowl. One hand flicked off the tv with the remote while the other tapped in the passcode on her phone and she opened the link attached to the notification. 

"Chapter 25 of 'Be Still My Heart'," she whispered almost reverently, wiggling further into the couch cushions and readjusting the popcorn bowl in her lap.

——————————————————————

Felicity was so engrossed in the story that she didn't even hear Oliver come in. He was leaning over the back of the couch placing a kiss on top of her head by the time she was aware of him.

"Oh! Hi. How did the meeting go," she asked, twisting around to face him.

"Like mortal combat, except without the fun parts," he sighed, slumping down to lean his forearms on the back of the couch. Felicity made a Gah! face and patted his hand soothingly.

"It gets worse," he cautioned. "We seem to have given off the wrong impression about our--" he cleared his throat--"MY activities in this neighborhood."

Felicity's eyes went wide and she pantomimed holding a tiny bow and arrow, but he shook his head.

"Being outed as a vigilante would be a relief comparatively. I think they think I'm some kind of gigolo."

A laugh burst out of Felicity before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, wide eyed, and he shot her a look.

"Don't think I couldn't," he warned, a smile starting in his eyes despite his gruff demeanor.

"Oh, I KNOW you could." She sounded totally convinced. "I could quit my job," she teased, and Oliver rolled his eyes.

"I met one of our neighbors there who advised me that we need to get you out in public to dispel the rumors. So we're going to a party on Saturday night."

Felicity chewed her lip in thought, mulling over the idea of meeting a bunch of strangers who might be under the impression that she paid for sex. She scrunched up her nose and started to shake her head 'no thank you' when he leaned forward and pecked her lips.

"We have to do this, Felicity. It's one party."  
She sighed, resigned. At least it was still a few days off.

"Did you and Thea kick ass and take names tonight," Oliver asked, switching topics and catching her off guard. Felicity flashed back to her illicit Skype help session and felt her heart seize up.

"Um, what?"

Oliver swiped a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Your jewelry party," he elaborated around a mouthful of corn.

"Oh. Oh! Yes!" Felicity chuckled. "You know Thea and me. Between the two of us we can do some damage." 

Oliver was nodding his agreement as he toed off his shoes and moved around the couch to flop down beside her. She held back a sigh of relief that she hadn't tripped herself up, tamping down on the tiny spear of guilt in her heart.

"No Netflix," he questioned, one brow lifted as he went after another handful of popcorn. 

"Ah, no. My favorite fan fic author updated tonight. I was just finishing the chapter."  
Felicity looped her arm through his as he took up the remote and switched on the tv.

"You should give it a read sometime,” she continued. “I really think you'd enjoy it."

"You know I prefer the classics," he replied, which made Felicity snort.

"How many times are we going to have this conversation: The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Addition is not classic literature."

He grinned in response, not taking his eyes off the screen as he surfed for Major League Baseball.

"Anyway," she continued, "You love the tv show. It's the same characters, just finding out they're soulmates under all different circumstances, and written by fans."

"I watch that show for the action, not the romance," he clarified sternly. 

"Whatever. You're a terrible liar." Felicity scooped up her phone and busied herself for a moment. “There. I just sent you the link to the first chapter. Give it a try."

Oliver disengaged his arm from hers and draped it over her shoulders, tugging her into his side without comment. 

——————————————————————

The following morning Oliver decided to give the hammock another go. He was many things, but never a quitter. He'd also watched a couple of YouTube videos.

Once settled he played his favorite sports radio podcast, then flipped idly through his inbox, intending to do some email cleanup.

Felicity's email from the previous night glared out at him and he suddenly remembered their conversation. He stared at the link for several seconds, fighting the urge to peek over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, then tapped the link with a sigh. He'd read it and get it over with, and that would end the argument. Hopefully.

————————————————————-

Two hours later he was still in the hammock, and still in the fan fiction. He'd read all 25 chapters of "Be Still My Heart", and had sighed in frustration when he got to the last one. Where was his closure? This was crazy.

Oliver navigated back to the beginning of the story to see if he could figure out how often the fic got updated. Then he scrolled through the author's other works, devouring them as well.

It wasn't until he heard Felicity's voice calling his name from the house that he came back to reality and shut down his phone. He gingerly sat up in the hammock and climbed out without any mishaps just as Felicity stepped out onto the patio.

"There you are! Have you been out here all morning?"

Oliver ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the ground.

"Ah, yeah. Time got away from me, I guess."  
She smiled and slipped her arms around his waist as he reached her.

"I'm glad," she said quietly, grinning up at him. "Nobody deserves a break more than you."

He kissed her softly, then stood gazing down at her in silence.

"Are you hungry," he finally asked, rubbing his hands over her arms as she gave him a squeeze.

"Starving," she confirmed, letting him turn her into his side as they entered the house. 

———————————————————————

“So I have a proposal.”

Felicity’s fork clattered into her salad bowl and she looked up in shock to see Oliver staring deeply into her eyes, the tiniest of smiles on his face. 

“Wha-what?”

He reached across the table to take her hand and Felicity had to fight to hear him over the blood rushing in her ears. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t make out anything after “Will you”.

“Oliver...what?”

He squeezed her hand and chuckled. 

“I SAID, will you go for a run with me?”

Felicity processed his words over a long breath. Her reply came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Oh, for a minute there I thought you meant a PROPOSAL proposal. But that’s not right, you wouldn’t, what a dumb idea...”

The look on Oliver’s face stopped her babble mid-sentence.

“I MEAN, it wouldn’t be dumb of you to PROPOSE, just dumb timing, or something, oh God, please make me stop talking,” she begged, her eyes slamming shut, and Oliver couldn’t help smiling.

“It’s okay, Felicity. Hey, look at me.” He squeezed her hand lightly to get her to open her eyes. 

“I know you’re not a big fan of running, and I was hoping if I phrased it right that you might agree to come out with me so all the bus stop moms can see that I do indeed have a super-hot girlfriend. It was my fault for putting it that way.” He ducked his head a little to catch her gaze again. “Forgive me?”

“Oliver, of course!” She shook her head quickly. “No apologies necessary.” She gave his hand a squeeze back and then let go to resume her lunch and will her blush to go away.

“So how about it,” he prodded.

Felicity wouldn’t look up from her salad.

“Hmm?”

“Fel-i-ci-ty...”

She sighed heavily and set down her fork.

“Oliver, I HATE running.”

—————————————————————

Sunlight was already streaming through the bedroom the next morning when he nuzzled her awake, caressing the underside of her jaw with slow kisses.

“Mmmm...” Felicity purred with her eyes still closed, lifting her chin to give him better access. She extracted her arms from deep under the covers and wrapped them around his neck just as he whispered, “Come running with me.”

She groaned and dove into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“Ugh, Oliver. No.”

Undeterred, he pulled his head back to concentrate on her exposed earlobe, brushing wavy strands of her hair out of the way to get access. 

“I didn’t mean right this second,” he clarified huskily.

45 minutes later he’d managed to get her out of bed and into running gear.

“You owe me for this one, Mister,” she warned, bending over to touch her toes and making Oliver consider taking her right back to bed. 

“I think I’ve already paid for this run,” he countered cheekily, and she snorted. 

“Now who’s paying for sex?”

“Technically, I’m using sex to pay for running.”

“So let’s count sex as exercise and call it a day.” She gave him a winning smile.

“Nice try. Let’s go.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more little bit to go after this. Enjoy!

“Felicity, honey, for the last time, we are not wearing comms to the party.”

“But what if we get separated, and somebody asks me about the recipe for this thing, or ‘what’s your secret ingredient’”—she said it in a funny deep voice— “and I have to fake knowing stuff, like how to cook?”

Oliver snorted and she glared at him, one hand on her hip.

“We’re bringing brie. The only ingredient is brie,” he explained carefully and, if he was honest, a little facetiously.

“Not funny, Oliver. I’m serious.”

“So am I. No comms.”

It was the closest they’d come to a full-blown argument since they’d moved to Ivy Town. Oliver turned back to his brie preparation while Felicity indulged in a little glaring at his broad back.

“Well, no one can make me have a good time,” she muttered darkly.

“I am sure of that,” he responded without turning around. She considered sticking her tongue out at him, but she knew from experience that the Green Arrow had eyes in the back of his head.

Twenty minutes later it was still pretty chilly between them. Oliver was really starting to sweat this party idea, because an angry Felicity was a sassy, sarcastic Felicity, and that combination did not go over well at parties.

To be fair, SHE’D been sweating it for a few days now, so he couldn’t really blame her for ramping it up at zero hour. Felicity wasn’t a big fan of crowds, especially crowds of strangers, most especially crowds of strangers who suspected that her boyfriend was a prostitute.

Oliver rolled his eyes to heaven just thinking about it. So much for living a low-key life in suburbia.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning down a little as they walked side by side down the block to the neighbor’s. “We only have to stay for a little bit. Just long enough to introduce you around and convince everyone that I’m, you know, not like that.”

She glanced up at him, expression slightly shuttered off, as if she was reserving judgment on his appeasement tactics. He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips and that finally brought him a smile. 

The sun was still fairly high in the sky, but the party was already in full swing. Laura met them at the door, drink in hand, and Oliver introduced Felicity to her. 

“I’d say I’ve heard lots about you,” Laura began, “but I’ve heard nothing about you, which is why you’re here.” She gave them a wink and a smile, and waved them toward the back of the house when Oliver held up the plate of brie.

The dining room table was covered with appetizers and snacks; Felicity hovered near his shoulder as Oliver set about finding a space for their dish, then he took her hand and led the way out onto the patio where the bar was set up. 

“Alcohol, yes please,” Felicity muttered under her breath, smiling shyly as Laura’s husband handed them each a drink. There were a couple of yard games going out on the manicured lawn, and clusters of partygoers took up most of the deck.

Oliver found a spot for them out of the way in the yard and they sipped their wine in companionable silence. There was a lot of good-natured ribbing and childish competition over the yard games, and when someone mentioned running home to get their kids’ archery set Felicity felt Oliver perk up with interest.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned quietly, and he dropped a sexy amused smile on her. He pulled her close, forgetting for a moment that they weren’t alone. They stared each other down for the longest time, and just before Oliver leaned in she broke the spell.

“I’m hungry,” she purred, and Oliver’s eyes flicked away momentarily while he tried to figure out which type of hungry she meant.

For foood,” she clarified, and he chuckled. 

Oliver led the way back inside, and made small talk with the other guests while he and Felicity filled their plates.

“Try the brie,” one woman offered to Oliver (in a slightly forward way, Felicity thought), but he shook his head politely.

“I don’t eat dairy,” he explained with a smile, and behind him Felicity watched another woman look pointedly at Oliver’s physique and then slap a cracker covered with cheese out of her husband’s hand. She had to cover her snort.

Whatever their (sometimes grievous) faults, Robert and Moira Queen had clearly raised a son who knew how to work a crowd, because within minutes she’d been introduced to everyone in the room and Oliver was expounding humbly but confidently on the changes modern appliances could make to America’s eating habits. Eventually Felicity excused herself to find the bathroom, leaving Oliver in a knot of women explaining his secret to slow cooker scrambled eggs. 

She capped off her visit to the loo with a quick Felicity-in-the-mirror pep talk about pretending to have a good time for Oliver’s sake, and then re-emerged into the hall and ran smack into a plaid button-down wall which had not been there when she went in.

“Oof. S-sorry!” 

Hands reached out to grip her elbows as she bounced off of him, and her glasses were knocked askew in the impact, making her blind for a minute until she could get them righted.

“Hey, how was the sushi,” the wall asked.

“Oh. Hi! Hi there. Jerry, right? Yes, sushi. The sushi. It was great, thanks.” Felicity babbled her way backwards out of his grip, coming to a stop when her back hit the wall next to the bathroom door. 

“I never got your name the other day,” he said with a smile, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. Felicity swallowed hard and wondered how long it would be before Oliver came looking for her.

“It’s Felicity,” she stuttered out, not expecting in a million years to run into him—literally, as it turned out—at a neighborhood party.

“What are you doing here,” she blurted, then then shook her head quickly. “Because I know you don’t live here. I mean, obviously not HERE, here. Laura lives here. With her husband, what’s-his-name...” she trailed off weakly, fervently wishing the Hoffmans had installed a Scooby Doo trap door in their hallway. 

But Jerry only smiled, apparently charmed by word salad.

“Laura was my sister’s roommate in college.”

“I. See.” Felicity decided to go with brevity in order to minimize the damage. Meanwhile, another corner of her brain was telling Oliver Queen “I told you so” about her comms idea. Jerk.

“Felicity?”

She froze; either the conversation in her head was suddenly in High Def, or the man himself was at the other end of the hall. Felicity craned her head slowly around Jerry’s form to confirm that Oliver was now in the hallway too.

“Hey Oliver,” she called out in her fake cheerful voice. “Come meet Jerry.”

Jerry turned with a big goofy smile, oblivious to Oliver’s predator-like approach. The two shook hands, squared up to each other, and Oliver was smiling, but by the look that suddenly came over Jerry’s face Oliver was also slowly grinding his bones to dust inside that grip. Felicity rolled her eyes.

“Ah, youch. Nice to meet you.” Jerry’s good mood seemed unaffected by Oliver’s attempt to maim him. Suddenly his eyes lit up.

“Oh hey! I brought this great Rueben Dip. Did you try it?” He didn’t wait for them to answer before charging back down the hall to the dining room. Oliver and Felicity had no choice but to follow.

“What is he doing here,” Oliver hissed in her ear, the Green Arrow frown on display. 

“His sister was Laura’s college roommate,” she hissed back, huffing at the look he shot her.

“That’s not important right now,” she continued. “The important thing, which I forgot to tell you earlier this week, is that he’s harmless.”

She couldn’t elaborate further because he was back with a paper plate filled with tiny pieces of rye bread and dip. As they sampled politely, a woman interrupted to ask Jerry for the recipe, and Felicity took the opportunity to hook her arm through Oliver’s and pull him into a corner.

She quickly explained, in hushed tones, that Jerry’s step father was the owner of the grocery store chain; further, she had unearthed a trail of paperwork and news articles to suggest that Jerry had been expected to take over running the business, but had opted for culinary school instead. It was a short-lived dream, and it appeared that Jerry was now back to learning about the grocery business.

“The whole chain is losing money,” Felicity whispered in conclusion. “It looks like Jerry is boarding a sinking ship.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before,” Oliver demanded.

“Well if I’d known you were going to rearrange all the bones in his hand I would’ve spoken up sooner,” she quipped, and Oliver had the decency to look mildly remorseful. “Between work and worrying about this party, I just forgot. Besides, every time I turned around this week you were buried in your phone.”

Oliver’s face morphed from remorseful to chagrined.

“I was reading fan fiction,” he confessed, red-faced, and Felicity’s face lit up.

“I knew it! I knew you’d love it.”

“Stop. It’s embarrassing,” he protested.

“It’s not. It’s fantastic,” she teased, but Oliver was having none of her cuteness.

Jerry suddenly appeared over his shoulder, interrupting any further argument. Oliver threw one last ‘I still don’t like this guy’ look at Felicity before pivoting to the interloper, hands in his pockets.

“So, Jerry, how’s the grocery business?”

Felicity’s jaw dropped momentarily at his nerve, while Jerry shuffled his feet and looked downtrodden.

“Not great,” he said with a sigh, attempting to put a smile back on. “I keep hoping if I come up with some new gimmick, or technology breakthrough, it will turn things around, but I can’t seem to think of anything.”

Felicity slapped a hand on Jerry’s upper arm, then pushed past Oliver to steer their new friend toward the backyard.

“I may have just the thing,” she announced, throwing Oliver a glare over her shoulder before pushing Jerry out the patio door.

Oliver sighed in frustration. That had not gone well.

—————————————————————-

An hour later Oliver was still hovering at the edges of the party, feeling miserable. This was the first not-good day they’d had since moving to Ivy Town, and somehow he couldn’t help feeling that it was all his fault.

The sun had set, and his fellow partygoers had loosened up considerably. The music was slower, and yard games had been replaced by slightly-drunken dancing. There were white lights strung over the patio and out in the trees, which would’ve been romantic if his girlfriend wasn’t in a deep, animated conversation with another man.

“Enjoying the party,” a voice asked behind him, and Oliver turned around to find Laura Hoffman with a look on her face that told him she knew very well he was not. Oliver studied the wood decking beneath his feet for a moment.

“Crowds of strangers are hard,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking to the patio table where Jerry and Felicity were sharing a look over the tablet she never seemed to be without. 

“She means a lot to you.”

“She’s my best friend. She’s...everything,” he replied, that certain light coming into his eyes as he thought about what she meant to him. 

Laura came to stand next to him and they both watched her, clearly happy to be in Jerry’s company but not flirting; just friendly. 

“Well, if she’s the one, maybe you should do something about it. Make it official.” Laura grinned at him. “Come join the ranks of us old married folks. It’s hard, sometimes miserable, but it’s the best thing you’ll ever do. Until you have kids, of course.” She winked at him and he smiled, then she patted his arm and moved on to grab her husband’s hand and sashay out onto the lawn for a slow dance. 

While he was watching the Hoffmans dance, Jerry passed him on the way to the bar and stopped to gush about Felicity’s computer program that could maximize efficiency at the store. Then he asked if Oliver would like to join them and have another drink. But Oliver declined politely and disappeared back inside the house.

Felicity watched the two men confer—and then Oliver leave—from her seat across the patio and her heart sank. The party had turned out to be more fun than she’d expected, but their interactions all day had been less than stellar. 

She was long accustomed to broody Oliver, but he honestly hadn’t been in a bad mood since they’d left the city and become a couple. Felicity fought the urge to go check on him, knowing she’d be doing it out of guilt, and that the best way to deal with his moods was to let him be alone for awhile.

She plastered on a smile as Jerry returned with two glasses of wine and woke up her tablet to continue walking him through the new software, but her heart was no longer in it.

———————————————————————

Oliver was skulking, he knew it. He’d found a spot in the corner near the table full of food, although he had no intention of eating any more; he was not a grazer. He had successfully managed to avoid having conversations, but was beginning to feel like that was because he was giving off so many unhappy vibes. 

At least nobody had propositioned him, he thought wryly.

“Hell no we’re not going home yet; the kids are at my mom’s for the night!” The female’s voice drifted up out of the crowd to him, and he tracked the progress of two women who passed by him without even noticing. “Let’s do a couples game,” she said then, a little louder than necessary. Alcohol, Oliver thought.

The phrase “couples game” traveled through the party crowd slowly, and little by little people began shifting outside onto the patio in anticipation of a new activity. Oliver stayed put, hoping the idea of a party game (which she would HATE playing with strangers) would chase Felicity inside to him so they could go. 

But someone spotted him, brooding in the corner, and shooed him out at the tail end of the others. The same woman who had made the initial game suggestion was busy arranging people on the deck. He slipped to the back of the crowd to avoid notice.

“Ooh, there’s a bunch of us,” she said loudly. “We’ll split it up. I need six ladies, front and center.”

Some of them stepped up immediately, others had to be cajoled, and finally physically moved into position, but eventually she had all six.

“Now I need all the men who belong to these lovely ladies,” she called out. There was more grumbling this time, but in a few minutes she had a group of men in a clump behind her. 

“Blindfold!”

“Carla...” a man warned near her, but she waved him off distractedly while Laura disappeared into the house.

“Shush, honey, this is a fun game. Everybody loves my games. Ah!”

Laura had returned with a black sleep mask, which Carla snatched from her as she turned to the group of men. She grabbed one at random and snapped the mask over his face.

“Now, shuffle ladies! That’s right, mix yourselves up, but stay in a line! Excellent! No talking!”

The women giggled as they traded spots, until Carla yelled for them to halt and then told them to hold their hands out in front of them.

“Okay, Charlie,” she ordered, grabbing the blindfolded man’s arms from behind to propel him in the right direction, “go find your girl!”

She shushed them all loudly as Charlie lurched forward, arms outstretched, towards the line of women. The crowd began to laugh and shout encouragement as he fumbled his way down the line, grabbing each hand and exploring it blindly. He finally latched on to a pair of hands that felt familiar and said, “Pam?” Everybody cheered as Charlie removed his blindfold and fist pumped in triumph.

Carla turned to the next man and the game continued, although not every contestant had Charlie’s skill, or maybe honesty. A couple of the guys took obvious liberties, pretending not to know that they were grabbing above the hands, but at that point everybody was pretty drunk, and nobody seemed to mind.

After a few rounds of silliness Carla called for replacements in the girl line, but Oliver felt confident that Felicity would never, in a million years volunteer for something like this.

He was half right.

Just as he was thinking of skirting the back of the crowd to find Felicity and get the hell out of there, Carla dove into the crowd of people with an Aha! of triumph and re-emerged with a shell-shocked Felicity in tow. She had her purse with her, and Oliver suspected that she’d had the same thought as him, and had been trying to escape.

“Carla, babe...” her husband tried again, but she ignored him as she placed Felicity in the lineup.

“Now where’s this gorgeous girl’s partner,” she cried, just as Oliver stepped forward.

Carla caught sight of him and her eyes lit up.

“Ooh, Running Guy! Fantastic! Good job, lady,” she stage whispered to Felicity, who blushed. She really was drunk.

Oliver leveled his gaze at Felicity and asked her with his eyes if this was okay. She shrugged and then nodded, willing to be a good sport. 

Oliver took the blindfold from the previous guy and slipped it over his head; it was an odd deja vu moment, like putting on the Green Arrow mask, but without the eyeholes. As he lost his sense of sight his others took over: He blocked out the noise of the rest of the partygoers as he focused on the sound of her boot heels shuffling on the decking, the smell of her shampoo. 

By the time Carla had mixed up the line of women and called for him to go he was already sure. 

Oliver was on her in two strides, bypassing her hands altogether to frame her face with his palms. He was mere inches away from her face, their noses almost touching, in the time it took to take a breath. 

The crowd gasped just as Felicity did, and he let one hand leave her face long enough to raise the mask.

“You found me,” she breathed in wonder.

“I will always find you,” he whispered back.

“Holy shit,” a woman next to her said under her breath, while a simultaneous swoon traveled down the line of contestants. 

Oliver held Felicity’s gaze for only a moment—although later everyone at the party would recall it lasting about 100 years—before asking her softly if she was ready to go. He turned his head to find Laura, standing off to the side.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he said quietly. He took Felicity’s hand and led her away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, friends! The end to Olicity’s adventures in Ivy Town. Knowing what we do now, two seasons later, made it fun to get into Oliver’s head and look at his reasons behind the almost-proposal in 4.01. Let me know what you think.  
> Thanks for reading!

Oliver let himself out the sliding glass door into the darkness of their back yard as quietly as possible. He’d thrown a tee shirt on, still wary about pint-sized Peeping Toms, but had come out here to let the cool night breeze dry the sweat on his skin.

They’d walked straight home from the party, and had barely made it through the back door before they were on each other. A blind man could track their progress through the house by the pieces of clothing scattered about, the lamp knocked off of the table in the hall leading to the bedrooms.

Oliver ran a shaking hand through his damp hair. Makeup sex—with others—had always been about releasing himself from the guilt he felt over his bad behavior, and it was only temporary relief at best. But what they’d experienced tonight, he and Felicity, after the mostly terrible day they’d had, was a mutual apology without words, a recommitment, a testament, and it had left him exhausted and exhilarated and emotionally spent.

If today had taught him anything, it was that Oliver Queen had never really left the island; he still assessed everyone he met by their perceived threat level, and the only thing that could redeem him was Felicity’s light. Over the past few months of traveling and building a life with her in Ivy Town he’d been able to push down Al Sahim, to remove the facade he’d built to save them, and quell the monster inside so that he could pretend to live like a regular person. 

But he could see now, after the way he’d treated poor Jerry, that his nice guy exterior was just an act, and that sooner or later everyone—even Felicity, who loved and believed in him the most—would discover his secret and look at him differently. 

The idea made Oliver sick to his stomach; there had to be a way to quiet the voices of doubt and secure some peace of mind for himself. The best way to do that was to bind Felicity to him—which he wanted to do eventually anyway—and lying next to her afterwards, still trying to catch his breath, he thought of Laura Hoffman’s suggestion to him at the party and took it as a sign. 

It was well past midnight and he was completely exhausted, but his mind wouldn’t shut off, so he’d left Felicity’s slumbering warmth to come outside and make a phone call. Even at this late hour he knew she’d be up.

“Ollie, what’s wrong,” Thea demanded as soon as she picked up, not even bothering with hello.

“Nothing, Speedy. Everything’s fine. It’s great, in fact.” He drew in a shuddering breath, still overwhelmed by it all.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

There was a long moment of silence while he gathered his thoughts; luckily his sister knew to give him time to process and remained quiet. 

“I called to ask a favor. I need this to stay between you and me,” he continued quickly, suddenly petrified that she’d blurt it out to the whole team right then and there.

“Ollie, of course.” She sounded slightly offended. “What is it?”

“I’m going to ask Felicity to marry me, and I’d...I’d like to give her mom’s ring.”

He clearly heard her squealing behind her hand, and growled in frustration and rising panic.

“Speedy...” he warned.

“Oh, calm down. They’re all out in the field; I’m on comms tonight.” She got herself under control and continued. “I think it’s great, Ollie. Fantastic, in fact. I’m so happy for you.”

“Be happy after she says yes,” he replied nervously, but a little of his concern lifted at his sister’s approval.

“So, can you get the ring to me,” he prompted, still not sure about the best way to get it to Ivy Town safely.

“Sure. It’s here in the Bunker in the safe. Actually, I have a great idea. Hang on.”

She put Oliver on hold without another word, leaving him stewing for several minutes. He stood up and paced the deck, his patience waning with every step. Just as he was about to hang up and try her again she came back on.

“Okay, this is going to be great. Barry happens to be here tonight collaborating on a case, so I’m sending him over with it.”

“Speedy, no! Barry can’t keep a secret—“

“Relax. I hid it inside a box of spark plugs. He thinks you’re fixing your bike.”

Oliver turned toward the patio door, his mouth open to continue his protest, when a streak of light zipped through the house, practically blinding him. It was gone again before he could blink. Something like a rumble of thunder rolled behind it, along with a whiff of ozone. Far off a car alarm sounded, and a lone dog began to bark.

“See? Easy peasy,” Thea chirped, clearly impressed with herself. 

Oliver rubbed a hand over his face and then up into his hair. 

“Thea...”

“Save it for your rehearsal dinner speech, big brother. Good luck.”

He found the box of spark plugs on the dining room table, extracted the ring, and hid it inside the empty slow cooker until he could move it somewhere safer in the morning. Then he rinsed off in the shower and climbed back into bed with his love.

————————————————————————

Oliver was up and out of the house the next morning just as the sun was rising, and back before Felicity woke up. She found him making omelets when she emerged from the bedroom, sleep-tousled and adorable.

“I thought we were out of eggs,” she said around a yawn, stretching her arms up over her head and pulling his oversized tee shirt up her legs in a most tantalizing way. Oliver swallowed and concentrated on flicking his wrist and flipping the second omelet so that it looked effortless.

“I’ve already been out to the Farmer’s Market this morning,” he replied, eyes never leaving his work. Felicity watched him for a moment, fascinated.

“You know what, it’s high time I learned how to cook an omelet. I’m going to give it a try next weekend,” she said decisively, climbing up onto the barstool and pulling the plate holding her breakfast toward herself.

“Sounds good,” Oliver nodded with a soft smile. He slid his finished omelet onto a plate and wiped his hands as he continued.

“I ran into Laura Hoffman this morning. I thought it was only fair to reciprocate since they were nice enough to invite us over last night—”

Felicity’s fork clattered onto her plate. “Oh good God, Oliver, tell me we’re not having a party.” 

Oliver grinned with a quiet laugh, and continued pouring them both orange juice.

“No, Felicity, no party. Just them, for brunch next Sunday. Is that okay?” His eyes lifted to hers for confirmation. 

Felicity sighed deeply, but took up her fork and stabbed at her omelet. 

“Just them is fine, I guess,” she confirmed.

“I’ll tell you what; if you can handle the Hoffman’s for brunch, I’ll make you a special dinner next Sunday night. Deal?” Oliver grabbed his plate and glass and rounded the island to straddle the barstool next to her.

“Deal.”

They clinked their juice glasses in a quiet toast and he leaned over to plant a kiss against her temple before digging into his breakfast. A bird chirped outside the open kitchen window, a lawn mower roared to life down the street, and Oliver Queen silently began to plan the biggest night of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> No geese were actually harmed in the making of this fic, although if you've ever had to deal with a pair of Canada Geese nesting in your backyard you will be a little disappointed that they weren't. Those suckers are nasty.


End file.
